#harmful fads

[noah-infinity]

so discord decided to not learn anything from the failed crypto/nft integration of last year, as they’re now planning to include ai chatbots and ai tools into their godforsaken app.

they’re also changing their tos to reverse their protection policies on recording our data

i’m heavily advising anyone with sensitive, private or nda information on their discords to think about hosting it elsewhere as discord will likely suck it up without bias to feed into their new ai chatbot. this is a major fuckup on discord’s end and incredbily tone-deaf to what their userbase consist of.

i also reccomend while you still can to disable any data analysis you have enabled in privacy and security. it’s on by default for many users. hell i didn’t even know i had it on in the first place.

its time to bully companies again into making them not make stupid tone-deaf decisions. discord needs another lesson

[purusadivine]

Starting not to believe in the law of attraction, staying positive manifestation talk because if we’re being real, we deal with the light & darkness everyday in everything. It wouldn’t make sense to only focus on the positive because we’re gonna deal with both regardless of what we manifest. I have yet to see focusing primarily on the positive to manifest something solely positive. However you manifest, it’s gonna take time and effort to see the results regardless. And if God wanted us to be positive robots I feel like He would’ve just said/did that 🤷🏾‍♀️

[clownwizardsupreme]

A gnome’s place is in the garden!

[starlit-mansion]

I deleted the tumblr app off my phone which has been good for not accidently wasting an entire hour every morning but sometimes i do want to look at tumblr on phone so i manually log in using the browser version and it's incredibly poorly optimized and is my version of virtuous suffering

[foolish-ghoul]

Attempting a Keto diet should genuinely be considered self harm. It is possible to reduce one's intake of carbohydrates without completely stopping you know, and you'll be healthier and happier with that approach in the long term.

[a-love-poet-at-heart]

My only regret in life is never cosplaying ebony darkness dementia raven way while in my deep dark mental state back in 2019 when I was anorexic and self harming on the reg /s

[h0neyfreak]

Discussion of food/nutrition (positive!) below the cut

Honestly my life improved so much when I started keeping a mental rotation of “supplemental” foods. Like, I really want ravioli with a butter cream sauce for dinner? Hell yeah. But my stomach is gonna hurt without some fiber so let’s add roasted broccoli or some frozen peas. Oh and I need some more protein or else I’ll be cranky and hungry an hour later so let’s toss in some grilled chicken or fried tofu with nutritional yeast. Literally all I’ve done is make the dish tastier and now it will last two nights instead of one. I just repeat this with every meal and suddenly everything I make is filling and tastes incredible and I don’t have random nutrient deficiencies from being a dumbass. I’ll put chickpeas in things you wouldn’t believe. I’ve made a lentil bolognese that would make my Italian grandmother hit me with a spoon and I’ll do it again too.

[existennialmemes]

[Billionaire Owned News Media Voice]

Is getting enough sleep actually harming you in the long run? We spoke to an Economics Expert who says: Yes!

Eating! The newest luxury fad you should be skipping out on.

What's it like for the working class? We spoke to Three Trust Fund Kids to find out!

Feeling burned out? Our sources suggest the answer is working more!

10 Reasons why an Equitable Humanitarian Utopia would actually be a total bummer!

This billionaire CEO is just like you! His bones definitely do not taste delicious.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

These are the weirdos using insulin for “weight loss hacks” and forcing scarcity of vital medicine that saves lives trying to justify their horrific behavior aren’t they.

Please for the love of fuck stop talking about important stuff online, it is clearly not your strong suit.

[jorjin]

Like the concepts of what's considered femininity and masculinity where I lived and live rn is so fucked up. We still conflate addiction to alcohol, ultraviolence and misogyny to masculinity when that's literally just machismo.

People still think machismo is Real Actual Masculinity and even men who don't adhere to its ideals either suffer or believe in some concepts of it. It makes boys only see girls as tools of pleasure and encourages the rift between them as a "natural" thing. Cishet men still treat women as "mystically illogical creatures" and religion also adds a hefty package to this with how we are taught Catholicism (there's a reason the femininity version is called "Marianismo").

As for the femininity... people literally complain about a 10 month old girl being "too rowdy" and "masculine" for being a normal baby that does everyday baby things. My niece literally had her ears pierced because my sister in law said she was "too boyish" and people constantly asked her gender and so obviously that meant she had to get a fucking bleeding to show she was a girl. For being a baby.

It's tiring how we're in 2023 and we still teach girls femininity is martyrdom and pain while boys are taught masculinity means being harmful.

And then parents wonder why their daughter are leaving their religion.

[kyxhiin]

Dad Marvel idea. (That I got from the captain Marvel fan group) Billy accidentally picks up on parental lingo when he's just trying to be there. And he can't help it when teens older than him see him as sort of a dad/parental figure.

Que him trying to keep it all together as he deals with traumatized teens as a traumatized kid. Like posing as a guardian figure for a school meeting of some sort (he always does it with himself, why wouldn't it work on the other Teens?..)

Batman asked Cap to go to parent teacher conferences, P.A meetings and all the other school stuff for his kids cause he got stuck up on a case that he NEEDED to solve(that's Tim's thing but whatever.)

And he's great at it, wonderful even. So that leads to all the other JL members asking for Cap to pose as an Uncle, Older brother, or any other sort of that matter.

That leads to him making life long enemies with the P.A moms.

Billy (in cap for wearing a suit that he was gifted from Batman for this reason alone.): Sarah, I thought I TOLD you to bring boiled potatoes not that *visibly wenching* potato salad for the class picnic. I thought I told you I WILL handle the cooking?

Some mom named Sarah: Oh, how silly of me. Well it's fine though, you saw how popular my potato salad was at the P.A meeting. Mr.Charles (fake name that so luckily happened to be C.C's)

Billy: Well! It was sure of a fight for the janitors to clean the toilets after? Wasn't it? Sarah?

Another one would be.

Billy: Oh, Heather's mom. How nice of you to bring those doggie treats for the Dogs, I would say you put verrrry hard work into them! (Feeding one of the cookies to Titus [Don't worry, he made sure that they were safe. Luckily she didn't add anything harmful to Dogs in them])

Heather's mom: Oh realllly? I wasn't sure if I was making it for Dogs or a human, it's pretty hard to tell with you?

Just so you know all of these are said in a very fake, condescending? backfaced tones. Plus a tiny add on as Billy pretended to be his own guardian for his parent teacher meeting.

Mrs. Smith: I'll have you know that, well Billy has been coming to school in interesting clothing options. I'm not one to judge Mr.Batson, but are you really letting your son go out like that?(Def judging him for looking homeless.)

Captain Marvel: I'll have you know that's the latest Fad between the little fellas. He's just following the trend that's outside of Fawcett! Well if you go to the new Gotham or new york city everybody dresses up like that. There's nothing wrong for my boy to follow modern fashion trends such as that.!

[bunny-lily]

Satoru, who...

Did you ask for more fluff? I did, ehe~

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

CW: pure fluff, just fluff, no angst, only happiness | proposal, marriage, pregnancy, husband!Gojo, dad!Gojo, soft!Gojo, categorically fucking whipped Satoru, domesticity, kinda slice-of-life, mildly suggestive at the end

The starstruck boy, Gojo Satoru, who is utterly obsessed with you in every way possible.

AN: while I’m in the middle of writing an absurdly long fic, I wanted to post some shorter stuff to 1) keep my hands loose and brain active/busy, and 2) post something while I’m working on the fic to come. I won’t post much about it rn because I want to actually finish it first and not make any promises, so enjoy a lil fluff in the meantime <3 just something short and sweet

WC: 3k

Satoru, who is smitten with you from the very moment he first lays eyes on you. Sure, he's had infatuations before, but they were short-lived and typically lasted no longer than a week. A quick fascination, then poof. You, on the other hand – you are different.

And it is plain to see for pretty much everyone. He is normally cocky and outgoing, even during the little fads he’s had, he never let down his façade of bravado. You, though? You melt all his walls until he’s a goopy puddle of a blushing, giggling school girl.

He is whipped, almost to an annoying point. He rambles off Suguru's and Shoko's ears enough times for them to know when he’s about to start singing your praises and avoid him, or distract him somehow (which is a monumental task when his ditzy head is full only of thoughts of you).

Even so, they are conflictingly bewildered and happy for their friend. For him to have found someone that he is interested in for longer than a week – let alone several months, now – is a riveting change of pace. He seems so genuinely delighted any time you two interact, bubbly, dreamy sighs leaving him as hearts dance in his eyes.

He has fallen for you bad.

Satoru, who’s a stuttering disaster when he tries to ask you out on a date, and damn near collapses in relief when you’re able to decipher what the hell he’s going on about and agree to go to the new café that opened up near campus with him.

One date turns into two, then three, then a dozen more that become routine for you. You meet up after classes let out, then head to the café side by side. Or, if one is running late, you have each other’s orders memorized. You even go the extra mile and order him a sweet he hasn’t tried yet to surprise him with when he bursts into the establishment, panting like he ran a marathon. He might as well have, he booked it for the café as soon as he was free, dying to see you.

Satoru, who is somehow in even more shambles when he gets the nerve to ask you to go steady with him, despite the two of you being borderline boyfriend and girlfriend by now. He’s jittery, sweaty, downright vibrating with tense energy when he brings you to the sakura tree near the back of school that you two had laid claim on. Oh, and when you say yes? He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Nothing can explain how an angel like you decided to grace him with your existence as is, let alone love him – even while you called him an idiot and said you thought you two were already dating.

Satoru, who was already protective over you when you first met, dials it to eleven after you agree to being his girlfriend. Gojo Satoru, the strongest man alive, could inspire fear and respect simply by being in the room with his confident and brash nature, completely relaxed and faithful in his skill. But if, gods forbid, something happens to you? Gone is that cocksure attitude. Gone are the coy smirks and passive-aggressive taunting meant to rile others up. Gone is everything but his one track mind that focuses solely on two tasks: protecting you, and destroying whatever harmed you.

Satoru, who spoons you to his chest and watches ASMR, random videos, or movies on your phone with you 'til you both fall asleep. It became routine shortly after you began officially dating. You'll climb into bed first and decide what you want to watch while he finishes his nightly regimen, then he'll slip under the blankets and pull your back flush against his front, prop his chin atop your head, slide a thigh between your legs, and off to cozy dreamland you two go as whatever you choose acts as white noise. 

It brings him an immense amount of comfort, and though he doesn't need as much sleep as normal folks, he'll refuse to leave bed until you're awake (with the exception of any needs he might have to take care of that will only see him away for a couple minutes at most before he’s cradling you in his protective hold again).

Satoru, who salts and peppers your face with endless, ticklish kisses to wake you up, saving the best kiss for when your sleepy, pretty little eyes open: right on your lips. He always wakes up before you do, and spends hours watching your blissful, precious face as you snooze, content and relaxed like a cat with full trust in its human. The comparison always makes him smile, because he, truthfully, envisions you both as being cats all the time. Lazy ones that cuddle in the sun, your smaller form using his ridiculously fluffy and larger one as a pillow-slash-blanket. His tail twined with yours, your ears twitching as he grooms you with kitten licks, ah, the dream.

Satoru, who wants to slap a ring on your finger the very moment he can. You two spend so many days and weeks raving about your imaginary wedding that he so desperately wants to be real, setting up plans, picking out what you would want for decor, scrolling through forum boards for ideas on a wedding dress for you. He is practically more excited at the prospect of getting married than you are, eager to help in every step of the process and more. 'Let me handle all the hard stuff, baby,' he nearly begs. 

He won’t tell you the cost of anything, and insists you go all out. Get the dress you want, don't you dare look at the price tag. Choose the perfect venue, he doesn't care if it's in Japan or fucking Dubai, he'll handle paying for everyone's travel and hotel needs on top of the whole wedding. Only the absolute best for you, nothing less, everything more.

Satoru, who is a train wreck of nervous excitement, anxious anticipation, and giddy trepidation when the day comes for him to propose. He takes you to the perfect location – up a short and easy hiking trail that leads to a cliffside with the most magnificent view of the ocean and setting sun. You think it's just a sweet date trip, until you see the path of tea candles guiding you to a romantically set up picnic blanket, a basket resting atop it, waiting to be opened.

When you turn around to express your shock and confusion, you find Satoru on one knee, looking up at you as if you are the most gorgeous and divine creature to ever exist. He's confident and boisterous, as always, as he plays out his little speech about how much he adores you and wants to keep you by his side, forever and ever, but he's a shaking trash fire inside. A shivering little dog that's relieved he didn't stutter or screw up the speech he practiced a hundred times over and then some.

Satoru, who's thanking every god to ever possibly reside above (and even below) when you throw your arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder as a flood of yeses pours out of you, slurred as you ramble through your tears and tell him you love him, how happy you are, and a plethora of other things that make him genuinely the most elated person to ever live.

Satoru, who slides the brilliant engagement ring he had custom made for you onto your finger; smooth, with an inset blue diamond that shares the same shade as his eyes, nestled in with a dozen tinier crystals in vine-like spirals flowing outward from the center. Swarovski, of course. He made sure that it was all flush with the platinum to ensure it wouldn't snag on anything. 

He was practically breathing down the jeweler's neck during the entire process, needing to guarantee it’s positively perfect for you. And, when he sees the glimmering jewelry cozy on your finger, the evidence of your bond and the next step in your journey to unite as one, he knows he made all the right choices.

Satoru, who only uses the finest material for your matching wedding bands, and has the insides of both engraved with each other's names. Yours in his, his in yours. He has the same jeweler as before (poor guy) design them to have two stripes of platinum within the gold of your rings, delicate and stunning for himself and his wife.

Satoru, who's jubilant and so incredibly ecstatic that you're now his wife that he can't help but tell everyone he knows, everyday, multiple times a day, even those that were at the wedding. He just can't get over it. You're his wife, the girl he's been crushing on since highschool, the girl he swore to make his, and to devote himself to. It feels like an incredible dream, and he worriedly pinches himself from time to time to make sure it's real. 

He did it. He married you, and now you carry his name in yours, in your wedding band, everywhere he could put it to subtly (not really) show you off as the unquestionably precious treasure you are, his wife, and how overjoyed he is that he managed to catch you and keep you.

Satoru, who forgets how to function when you hold up a pair of white and pink sticks on his birthday, from different brands, both showing positive symbols. You. You're pregnant. With his baby. He swears his brain short-circuits because one minute, he's staring at you like you'd grown a second head, and the next, he has you wrapped up in his arms as he showers your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, lips, neck, ears, anywhere he can reach, with kisses.

He's a babbling, sniffly mess as he practically crushes you to his chest and coos and preens and weeps with elation. He reveres you like a deity and he’s your loyal and pathetic servant who was blessed beyond measure that you decided to give him the gift of life. He's going to be a father, and it's all because of you.

Satoru, who completely spoils the living hell out of you during your pregnancy (as if he hadn't already been), bending backwards for you for everything. Weird cravings? He's on it. Swollen ankles and nausea? He's rushing to the store for medicine, then rubbing your feet to ease the ache. Insatiable horniness? He's your slave for you to use for your pleasure. Hormones swinging wildly back and forth? He's there with a box of tissues and his firm chest for you to beat on when you feel like you're going crazy. It's his fault you're pregnant, after all. You're doing the hard work of not just carrying his child, but of nurturing it, growing it, letting it take from you to develop strong and healthy. Of course he's going to take care of you.

Satoru, who refuses to let you do any work. You're on indefinite parental leave. From the moment you show him those positive tests, he sits your pretty ass down on the couch and tells you firmly that your only job now is to help your baby develop. He'll take care of everything else, don't even think about lifting a finger.

Satoru, who's there at every appointment with you, clutching your hand tightly as you talk to your doctor about everything you need to know. And when you have your first ultrasound, and see your fetus together for the very first time, he's crying right alongside you.

Satoru, who spent meticulous hours packing a duffel bag with everything you'll both need for when it comes time for you to go into labor. Spare changes of clothes, plenty of water, blankets to keep you warm, a couple pillows, anything and everything. He refuses to go in unprepared. As soon as it's all packed and ready to go by the 8 month mark of your pregnancy, it's in the backseat of the car. The baby car seat is in the trunk of the sleek and top-of-the-line SUV he purchased specifically for your soon-to-be family. He doesn't care that it's taking up space, or that it’s too early, he refuses to go in unprepared.

Satoru, who immediately ditches work the very instant your water breaks. Who gives a fuck if he's in the middle of something important, nothing takes precedence over you and the incoming birth of your infant. He's breaking several driving laws to get you to the hospital, but neither of you care. Not when you're panting in the passenger seat, white-knuckling the grab handle with a palm pressed to your stomach, grunting and crying out in pain any time you have a contraction. It's a miracle he doesn't get pulled over, and he's incredibly thankful (and proud of himself) for thinking of calling the hospital ahead of time so that they're ready for you.

Satoru, whose entire world becomes a blur from the second you reach the hospital, to the second you're crushing his hand in your grip, screaming as you fight to bring his baby into the world. He's letting you yell at him and blame him for the pain you're in, easily accepting and agreeing because it is his fault. 

But while your shaking sobs and shrieks of agony wound his heart beyond any possible measure, he also can't help his elation at knowing it's time, all the waiting has been worth it, every minute spent catering to your every need, want, and desire. He'll do it indefinitely, wait on you hand and foot for the rest of his life, treat you like a queen, because you deserve it and so much more.

Satoru, who's shocked by how well he's holding up when the nurse puts the wrapped up, pudgy little newborn in his arms, gazing down at the tiny being. His tiny being, your tiny being, the fragile and priceless life you both created. Looking down at his kin, his reason for being, he knows he'd do anything and everything to protect you and your child.

Satoru, who sees you, a disheveled and tired disaster, with your hair all tangled, frizzy, and astray, strands stuck to your sweaty skin, your body slack in relief as the hardest part is finally over, watching your husband hold your baby, and he thinks you're more beautiful now than you've ever been. 

You look like you’ve been dragged through hell; your legs are sticky with residue blood, amniotic fluid, placenta, and whatever else that needs to be cleaned off (though your legs are covered with a few layers of blankets to keep you toasty warm while you recover from labor), your face is a little pale and sallow, you're barely clinging to consciousness, and he's marveling at how he's never seen anything or anyone as utterly blest and sacred as you. 

A goddess amongst men, the only one the strongest man in the world would ever willingly bow down to without you even needing to ask.

Satoru, who helps place your baby on your chest, the nurse having opened the blanket for skin-to-skin contact as you feed it, and finally lets himself release all his pent up emotions of raw, unfiltered joy. Every cell, every fiber, every atom in him is dancing in overwhelming happiness. He'd do it all over, again and again, as many times as you'd let him, if it means he gets to see you this blissful and tranquil. The glow of maternity suits you like no other, even in all your unkempt and chaotic glory. 

Satoru, who can't believe he's a dad. He goes above and beyond, insisting he takes care of the baby at night so you can sleep – he doesn't need as much rest as others do, after all. He murmurs to his newborn about how much he cherishes and adores you, how much you mean to him, how you're the best wife and mommy a man could ever ask for and more. He reads the kiddo bedtime stories to help it sleep, feeds it, changes it, whatever it is that is needed, he's there and doing it. 

On top of that, he continues to be your doting, devoted, caring husband. He makes sure you're taking your vitamins, takes you to all your postpartum appointments, aids you through your subsequent depression, all of it. He's sworn himself to you for life, not just in this timeline and universe, but in any and every single one of them.

He made and said his vows with purpose and conviction. He meant every word, and upholds them like his life depends on it. Because, in his mind, it does.

Satoru, who is patient with you, and firmly commands you to not push yourself to do things you can't do while you're still in recovery. He doesn't care if he has to wait months or even years for you to be ready to lay with him again, he'll wait it out. He might not be a patient man, but for you, he'd wait until all the stars die. 

Oh, but you, darling little minx that you are, do your best to take care of him, too. Even when he urges you to rest, or not worry about it, or anything other arguments he might have against it, you tend to him in whatever way you can. Touching, sucking, rough and heavy petting, whatever it takes. You refuse to leave him alone to suffer through months and months of dryness with no relief save for his hand and the toy you surprised him with to help take the edge off.

Satoru, who can't be more grateful to you. You're more than his wildest dreams, the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect person as a whole in the entirety of the universe. He really can't help boasting about being the Chosen One, because he really is, if the cosmos decided to gift him with you.

Satoru, who swears to take care of you for the rest of your lives, and does well on his promise.

Satoru, who fights for the sake of you and your kin alone. He refuses to leave you in any way, shape, or form. He refuses to let the world be a danger to any of you. He refuses to have anything happen to his family. Nothing will tear you apart, not now, not ever.

Satoru, who loves you more than the sun, the moon, and all the stars combined.

—-—-•(-•ʚɞ•-)•—-—-

Banner by cafekitsune ♥ thank you for reading

[fiber-optic-alligator]

GOING TO TRY AND SLIP THIS IN REAL QUICK

Uh can I request some first contact au soft vore swindle (any) with a human he found maybe when humans first started getting taken?

It took me ten years and I am absolutely exhausted but HERE IS THE SWINDLE FIC!!! I, um, forgot to add vore, but there is an allusion to it, so I hope you'll still enjoy this! I'm so sorry it took me so long to write :(

How To Discover A New Species And Make Money Off Of It (Totally Ethical Strategies Which Break No Laws)

Pairing: Swindle x Human Reader (First Contact Au)

Word Count: 2462

Summary: After traveling to Earth on a mission to locate rumored Energon deposits, Swindle discovers a new species in which he quickly realizes he can make quite a big amount of money off of...and they are called humans. Capturing you and deciding you will be the ambassador of his newest endeavor, you have no choice but to let Swindle rope you into a twisted plan where he hopes to turn humans into the popular Cybertronian pets.

  The planet is a small, diminutive thing: a piece of space rock cast out into far reaches, reeking of organic growth that shows itself in shades of dark green, desolate brown, deep blue, and patches of puffy white swirling above everything else in the form of physical moisture. Its closest neighbors are all wastelands, either long abandoned by their inhabitants, or completely devoid of anything to begin with. Earth, as it is registered in Cybertron’s database, is the only planet in this backwater area of the galaxy to host life. It’s an insignificant sphere, circling an insignificant sun, in an insignificant solar system. No one would be caught here, simply because there is nothing to see.

  Yet, here Swindle is, doing just that. Staring out at the mud puddle planet, he wonders how he ever thought accepting a job here would turn out to be profitable. The talks of Energon deposits being found on Earth had been too much to ignore. Such claims are typically rumors started by mechs with far too much time on their servos: fables of the purest Energon ever discovered hiding deep beneath the soil of places such as this one. If he were younger, Swindle would have fallen for the stories on the spot. Many newbies do. They think they’re making it big, wasting energy blasting off to no-name systems, ready to pour their resources into expeditions that always yield no crop. Fads fade. Stories end. And Swindle is not new to his trade.

  He does his research. He interviews those he deems noteworthy. He takes notes. He’s careful. Ultimately, results prove Earth definitely has something. Energon? Eh, he’s not too sure. But his intel tells him it's something he can make shanix off of. A boon. A land mine of opportunity.

  So he’s taken the chance. But now that he’s here, with his ship gradually getting closer and closer to the planet, he’s beginning to believe his research might have yielded false information. Earth is looking far from profitable, and he can tell no Cybertronian faction has made contact with its surface yet. It surprises him; Autobots and Decepticons, despite their countless differences, are extremely good at the art of colonization, whether accidental or intentional. It seems like practically every planet in the universe has been touched by his species in one shape or form. But no such thing can be found here. His ship’s systems aren’t picking up on a single Cybertronian satellite or base. It might very well be possible that he is the first to ever lay optics upon Earth.

  This was a bad idea, he thinks. High chances will be that his search will bring up nothing. He could turn his ship around now and head off to places where his time will be better spent. He won’t regret it. Probably.

  He continues looking at Earth and vents a frustrated exhale through his intake. Whatever. He’s here anyway. Might as well take a look around.

  The forest his ship lands in has various creatures frantically darting out of harm’s way when it makes contact with the ground and stabilizes its support footing. With a hiss, the bay doors open, and he steps out slowly, his optics quickly adjusting to take in Earth’s light. It's all…very green. There’s a slight wind whistling between the leaves, making them rustle with a strange noise Swindle isn’t used to. He cringes and considers retreating back aboard the ship, then decides against it. His external diagnostics register no visible threats in the immediate area. He’ll be fine. After all, what organic would pick a fight with a giant alien robot such as himself?

  He types some instructions into his data pad. A panel opens on the side of the ship, and out comes a scouting drone, the perfect way for him to get a Seeker’s eye view of the terrain. “Alright,” he murmurs to himself. “Here we go. Let’s see what this planet is hiding.”

  The drone cycles and whirrs, then darts up into the air. Its video feed translates onto the data pad, giving him a clear aerial picture. At this vantage point, he can see that this forest he’s landed in stretches on for a long time. The drone picks up on various sorts of metals: his universal translation tool registers these as iron, copper, even gold. Sounds quite expensive, but they aren’t what he’s looking for. He types in a primary locating directive. Find Energon.

  A few cycles pass, and still, he locates nothing. Just more green and strange lifeforms he couldn’t care less about. Swindle grumbles and wishes he brought some drinks with him to pass the time. There definitely isn’t any Energon here, and that frustrates him beyond measure. But it is a big planet by organic standards…just because Energon isn’t in this immediate location doesn’t mean his search is a total loss. He worries at his lower derma in thought. Perhaps he should check the polar caps next…or maybe the equatorial region?

  Snap.

  His audial processors immediately pick up on the noise. Intrusion. Whipping around, he has his gun out in an instant, the barrel revving up with pulsing energy, eager to incinerate whatever is in its path.

  What stands before him-or below him-is a lifeform. A strange, fleshy being standing on two skinny legs with equally skinny arms. It stares up at him with big, alien eyes, and it’s flappy mouth parts in what he can only assume to be surprise. Swindle blinks, then slowly lowers the gun.

  “Well, well, well,” he says, snapping the weapon away and crouching down with a curious tilt of the helm. “What…are you?” All of the natives he's seen so far are either quadrupedal or avian. This animal is neither; it stands like he does, yet clearly displays the qualities of subpar intelligence. It hasn’t done a single thing so far. It’s just…there. Staring. Perhaps a fright response? Does it think he can’t see it because it’s so still?

  “You certainly aren’t Energon.” He clicks his derma, thinking. “But you are interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen something quite like you before.” He wonders, is it friendly? He does a quick scan and comes to the satisfying conclusion that the creature-you-doesn’t harbor any natural defenses against his kind. He could break you in half like a stick with little-to-no pressure required. He extends a servo, intending to be friendly.

  You finally snap into action and stumble back, letting out a yelp. He can’t help laughing when you fall over onto your aft, minuscule digits digging uselessly into the forest floor. Primus, you are pathetic. No claws, no antlers, no wings…what purpose do you serve for this planet? Your species definitely must be at critical risk of extinction.

  Yet…he feels his spark soften when he observes your trembling body and listens to your soft squeaks. You…you’re adorable. Swindle is a hardened soul, one who doesn’t fall for the idea of cute easily. Yet you’ve managed to make him want to say “Awww” after looking at you for less than five cycles. Is this your way of self-preservation? Can you somehow influence the feelings of others in order to escape danger?

  He wants to know more. He’s intrigued by you. Snapping his digits, he reaches forward. “C’mere, little thing. Let’s get a better look at you.”

  Your face contorts into an expression of pure panic, and you fumble away from his looming servo, a startled shriek leaving you. But unfortunately for you, he’s far too quick, and snatches you into a fist before your tiny brain can keep up with his movements. You immediately begin struggling, letting out these sharp squeaks and desperate chatters. Swindle sighs and gives you a very patient look. “Quit squirming, alright? I swear I’m not going to hurt you as long as you don’t hurt me. Though I’m guessing you probably can’t. You’re barely taller than my index digit. Why are you so small, huh?”

  He turns you over and observes you from every angle, being careful not to rough you up too much. You wear fabrics over your body and a weird sort of bag against your back. Swindle easily slips it off of you and holds it to one optic, scanning its inner contents. Just paper books and a weird ocular device. He snorts and throws it away, disinterested. You don’t seem to like this and begin pushing at his digits with a frantic desperation that has him chuckling.

  “That’s not going to do much for you.” He brings you closer to his face and inhales your scent. A pleasant, woodsy aroma that only seems to permeate from organics fills his olfactory sensors and makes him shiver with delight. “How wonderful. You smell amazing. Almost on par with Energon.”

  Oh. That reminds him. He’s here to find Energon, not ogle at weird little Earth creatures. He sighs and shifts you to his left servo so he can recall his drone. “Not much here to see besides you, pipsqueak,” he mutters as he watches the vessel speed back over to his ship and return to its charging panel. “Let’s go do some further exploring of this planet, alright? I think I’d like to hold onto you for a bit longer.” He smiles down at you. “You’re kind of cute. You don’t mind hanging out with good ol’ Swindle, do ya?”

  You certainly do mind, with the way you continue to wriggle around with your arms flailing. Scared squeaks turn into angry growls, with you narrowing your eyes and puffing up to express your indignation. He watches you, then revs his engine and bares his denta, growling back at you with such a loud rumble, it sends a frenzy of avians flapping from the tops of the trees.

  You snap your mouth shut and shrink back, any rebellious bravado previously displayed disappearing with the avians. Swindle grins satisfactorily. “You try and bite,” he says. “I bite back harder. Now be a good Earthling and enjoy the ride, alright? I’ll let you go once I’m bored of you.”

  He walks slowly, taking his time not to accidentally knock a tree over or step on an accidental organic. You are quiet and oddly still, except for your constant vibrations which almost have him feeling rather guilty for scaring you into submission…almost. Glancing down at you, he watches the way you lower your head to hide your face beneath the cover of your hair. Liquid drips down onto his digit.

  Ah. You’re leaking from your eyes. Crying. He didn’t know Earth animals could do that. He raises the end of his thumb and runs it lightly over your cheeks, wiping them away. “Don’t do that, little one, come on,” he says in the most soothing tone he can muster. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I’m just your friendly neighborhood salesbot, yeah? Just a guy trying to survive like every other punk in the universe. Why would I hurt you?”

  You sniffle and peer at him with those big, soulful eyes. And oh, now you’ve done it. You’ve struck an arrow straight into his spark. A soft gasp escapes him, and he tilts your head back further. “By Primus, I have never seen something as cute as you. So soft…so small…” He ruffles your hair and earns himself a chirp as you swat his digit away. “Ha, and feisty too. I wonder…just how much would a bot pay to buy you as a pet?”

  The gears begin turning. A new idea shows itself to Swindle as the prospect of a tantalizingly lucrative step into an industry he hasn’t bothered contemplating until now. Cybertronians, for all of their ingrained brutality, love pets. He thinks it's because his kind are so war-torn, so used to the bloody, the disgusting, the traumatic. So many veterans on all factional sides own cuddly therapy companions which aid them in their long road to recovery. Helio hamsters, cyber dogs and cats, even glitch mice and turbofoxes…not to mention various other non-Cybertronian native animals hailing from other planets across the cosmos. Yes, the pet trade for mechs is quite popular, and he knows it won’t lose its momentum any time soon.

  So why can’t he get into it?

  If Swindle was to suddenly return to Cybertron with a new creature…a tiny, delicate lifeform from the distant Earth, advertised as the perfect companion for any bot…he could begin a whole business. Gentle, squishy, and oh-so cute! A lifelong companion who engages with you and offers the ultimate form of loyalty! Buy one for your sparklings, your conjunx, or yourself! Yes, yes, he can see it now! He could make millions if he plays his cards right! Perhaps even billions if it really takes off!

  He brings out his data pad and holds it over you. If you’re going to sell, you’re going to need a proper name to sell with. “Scan lifeform,” he orders. “Identify.”

  The data pad is slow with it. Its light casts over you and makes you wince, giving a long, contemplative hum as its AI races through the Cybertronian web and searches for a clear species identification. When it finally lets out a pleasant beep and reveals all found information, Swindle swears he sees shanix flashing before his optics.

  Species: human. Homeworld: Earth. Status: Critically endangered. Not protected by the Prime Universal Protected Organisms Law. Known clients are estimated to start at…20,000 shanix.

  “20,000!” He whistles and grins delightedly. “Good Primus, you’re worth that much? Who knew I had such an expensive little twerp sitting right in the palm of my hand?” He laughs, ecstatic. Forget the Energon. What he can make off of you and the rest of your kind is twice as much as a regular run would get him. This is what has been hiding on Earth. This is the boon. The opportunity.

  He leers at you, not even seeing you as just a fascinating animal anymore. You’re a product to take advantage of, to sell, to milk for all of your worth. Swindle’s done it before. He likes to say it’s nothing personal, because it isn’t. After all, he’s just surviving, trying to earn a life like anyone else. When he looks into your terrified eyes and sees the way you go pale at the sight of his nearly crazed expression, he thinks about how many bots will be won over by this face, how he’ll be rolling in dough by the time he’s through with Earth.  “Listen to me, little one,” he says. “You and I are going to be very good business partners from now on. I think I’ll keep you as a showcase specimen. Which leads into my next question…where can I find more of you?”

[marzipanandminutiae]

honestly the positioning of common-sense sun protection- hats, parasols/sun umbrellas, sunscreen, etc. -as either prissy and affected or unnecessary anti-aging obsession is one of the most dangerous lines we've collectively been fed as a society, for 100 years now

like I get where it all started, I do. there ARE health benefits to sun exposure in moderation, those were starting to be understood around the 1910s, and the 1920s fancied themselves the inventors of science and Women Doing Things OutdoorsTM because of some discoveries made and voting rights gained around that time. tanning was the new miracle cure! it meant you were outdoors and active- with no consideration that the "active" part might be what made people feel good, not so much the endless sun exposure! it spoke to European or tropical holidays!

(if you were white. if you had natural, healthy dark skin, no dice; keep rubbing heavy metals on your body to look lighter. there's just no winning)

and unlike forcing factory workers to ingest radium and other harmful fads of the day, the negative effects took years to surface and weren't yet fully understood for what they were

but it took root so deeply that when sunscreen began gaining just a BIT of a foothold...it became associated with the kind of people who use special wrinkle-prevention straws. and some idiot who thinks skin cancer is caused by eating seed oils just reblogged one of my comments on the matter, linking a weird study that claims tanning-bed use is somehow good for you

god

we are never getting out of the Skin Damage Is Beautiful Industrial Complex, are we?

[romanceyourdemons]

i know this whole conversation has been done to death, but one thing really harmful about the pop culturization of the phrase “the male gaze” reducing it to “when woman sexy” is that it really cuts it off from discussions of other, interlinked forms of the narrow and masturbatory hegemonic gaze in popular media. the male gaze is half-brothers with the white gaze, which refuses to portray black people except in a way that is specifically pleasurable to whiteness, either as a shaft-type unstoppable sex machine (a direct descendant of the murderous stereotype of black men’s virility) or as a magical negro-type, soothing, supporting, and infinitely forgiving of whiteness. the abled gaze refuses to portray disabled people except in a way that is specifically pleasurable to the abled audience—inspiration porn or a motivation for the “real people” in the story. characters either need a compelling reason to be jewish, muslim, foreign, fat, queer, or else they need to be a joke, so that the hegemonically “correct” audience members can derive pleasure from the well-functioning narrative or the jokes. in the 1950s-70s there was a fad of yellowface. films like breakfast at tiffany’s (1961), teahouse of the august moon (1965), and you only live twice (1967) proudly showed off how they had made mickey rooney, marlon brando, or sean connery into “a real japanese,” as though japaneseness was just a trick white scientific innovation was on the cusp of learning and replicating. no consideration was given to whether japanese audience members would see themselves in an eye-taped sean connery, whether asian or queer or fat or foreign or muslim or jewish or black or female audience members would enjoy the film, because they were never considered to be audience members at all. the only audience members that matter are the ones considered “correct” by hegemonic whiteness. and so, under the subset of this phenomenon referred to as “the male gaze,” female characters are only worth portraying if they are a virgin, mother, whore, or joke—bringing physical or emotional pleasure to the “real” audience members in one way or another

[curioscurio]

Reading a lot of Sherlock Holmes, and trying to draw victorian men accurately will lead you to learning that people wrote on their shirt cuffs often in ink because they were detachable and usually made of extremely starched linen or PAPER. working class men would find them stiff, overly formal, or not worth spending the money on it, but if you were mid to upper class then it was expected that you wear just as much complicated, sillohuete focused shapewear as women. Victorian men also wore corsets, especially military men, to achieve that puffy chest and flat stomach look around the 1820's.

The male corset fad had died down a little around the turn of the century (1880-early 1900's) as women fought for more comfortable and less oppressive shapewear, and effeminate men ridiculed for wearing the once fashionable and even medically recommended undergarmet. However, the male corset in the 1880's was still fairly popular enough to be advertised by dressmakers!

(Forgive me not citing my sources at the moment, but these advertisements I believe are dated around 1880 when mens corsets fell out of popular style but were still available and fashionable in certain circles.)

Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that Dr. Watson, being both a medical and military man... probably wouldn't have worn a corset at the time of his deployment around 1880, unfortunately. ( I know, we're all dissappinted.)

Not that he couldn't wear one if he wanted to! But based on ACD cannon, I really feel that he would not be the kind of guy to wear one. Call it speculation, but if I had been deployed and then shot in the shoulder and leg, wearing a corset would be all but torture on my body. Let alone trying to wrestle an injured soldier out of one while trying to stitch him up. Corsets for military men were more of a fashion statement than a medical device; and even then, it was only helpful for orthopedic reasons (back problems mostly).

It was also around that time that the Women's Dress Reform movement began. Despite the Sherlock Holmes novels being ripe with period-typical misogyny, I like to imagine that Watson would side with the women and medical professionals on this one, in that they were often restrictive, unnecessary, and medically harmful in the long run.

Sherlock Holmes, however, absolutely has a large variety of both male and female corsets for various disguises and probably wears them often. This isn't explicitly stated in canon or anything, I just feel it in my heart.

Sorry if this is all over the place or not completely accurate! I went down a rabbit hole but am totally open to any corrections! Also I think the idea of Watson lacing up Holmes and grumbling about corsets is a funny visual lol